


Dark

by CobblepotsComfort



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Other, Ozzy is just beautiful and I wanted to write a poem about him, Prose Poem, love of a villain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-01-28
Packaged: 2019-10-18 08:10:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17577110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobblepotsComfort/pseuds/CobblepotsComfort
Summary: A little poem I just made up about my great admiration for the villain/antihero Oswald Cobblepot.  He may be a villain but he's been an inspiration to me.  And come on, he's beautiful isn't he?





	Dark

**Author's Note:**

> The first line 'Are you afraid of the dark? I’m not afraid of the dark!' is stolen shamelessly from the track 'Darkside' - by Ty Dolla Sign and Future (feat. the angelic voice of Kiiara) -from their album 'Bright'. This track is on the playlist for my story "Cobblepot's Comfort - the Penguin and the Spider Woman," which is currently being edited.
> 
> Thanks to Jennifer Cristina for her beautiful artwork of Oswald, gifted to me x

 

**Dark.**

 

****

 

Are you afraid of the dark?  I’m not afraid of the dark!

 

I used to be until he came into my life.  Not walking but hobbling, cerulean eyes flashing, mouth tight as a drawn line.  Threatening, menacing - adorable.

 

Now I walk out into the darkness, the music thundering in my ears, my eyes actively searching for him.  I hope to cross paths with him some day - although I know he is frightening.

 

I used to hate winter, until I found him.

 

He is not Krampus, nor is he Saint Nicholas.  He is not a monster, nor is he an angel.

 

He is just Oswald.  

 

His downy raven hair is a crown of  tufts and his nose is a speckled bird beak, but his flapping  wings are clipped, and his leg bent and broken. He is very much a lame, flightless bird.

 

But don’t let that fool you.  

 

Oswald is not to be pitied, he is to be feared, bowed down to, obeyed without question.

 

His mind is his greatest weapon, sharper than the knife within the silver-topped cane he clutches in his gloved hand, the stick at once a prop and a concealed weapon.

 

I really should want to run from him, but I can’t - and don’t.  And won’t!

 

I run to him,  embrace him, and tell him he is a bright spark of light in the darkness.  Our mad, bad, sad, dark, dangerous, beautiful boy.

  
  



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